Later, fate guided me to Paṇḍit Har Govind Miśra, who happened to live in the room next to mine at Assi Ghat. When I first met him, he was in his mid-80s, and our bond quickly grew into something that felt like a father-son relationship. His words, spoken with deep affection, are forever etched in my heart: “Nobody, not even my son, has done what you are doing for me.” Paṇḍit Miśra-jī was a scholar of immense wisdom, well-versed in a variety of fields. Originally from Pāṭaliputra (modern-day Patna), he had left his family behind to embrace the vānaprastha stage of life—literally “departing to the forest” (वाणप्रस्थ)—a prelude to the saṃnyāsa phase, symbolising renunciation and a retreat from material life in pursuit of spiritual emancipation (Yoga). In the sacred City of Light, Varanasi, he sought a deeper connection to his purpose. He taught me English, Hindi, the basics of Sanskrit, and the essentials of Sāṃkhya and Āyurveda—each lesson more than just words, but seeds planted for a lifetime of understanding. Before dawn each day, I would be at the foot of his bed, lighting charcoal and preparing the dough for the chapati. After greeting him with a heartfelt “ॐ श्री गुरुभ्यो नमः| सुप्रभातम् || (Oṃ śrī gurubhyo namaḥ, suprabhātam—I bow to my teacher. Good morning), we would walk together to Gangājī to bathe before the sunrise. His lessons often began as we walked through the fog-laden alleys of Varanasi, making our way to the river for our morning bath, waiting for the sun to rise. Only after this sacred ritual would we return to his room, where I cooke the chapati and we’d share chai together. It was in those moments, seated at his feet, that I would absorb his teachings—lessons that would become deeply ingrained within me. With both Paṇḍit Prakāśa Mahārāja and Paṇḍit Miśra, there was no formal methodology, no textbooks, no structured curriculum. Yet, they both guided me unwaveringly toward a path of personal self-study and independent research. This approach, combined with my own direct experiences and practices, eventually formed the bedrock of what would become Navakaraṇa Tantra. As the years passed and my studies continued, my limited savings were exhausted. I could no longer afford the basics—proper hygiene or nutritious food—and my health began to deteriorate rapidly. I found myself on the edge of death, battling cholera, malaria, hepatitis C, and severe physical weakness. At the same time, I struggled with existential depression, and an overwhelming sense of guilt—for feeling that I was dying prematurely, causing pain to my parents and loved ones. During that period, I went through profound insights and encountered many deep transformative experiences, which I cannot recount in this introduction. I was alone in a foreign land, unable to afford medical treatment, with no one to care for me. My only option was to heal myself—through my own will, my practice, and my resolve, drawing from what I had learned and the limited resources available to me at the time. This inescapable situation compelled me to develop a self-directed method of healing and transformation, which later became the foundation of our method “Navakaraṇa Tantra”.
